When Dante talks about the Inner Ring of the Seventh Circle of the Inferno, I believe he was referring to something resembling the above photograph. Ughh.

So, yeah: 3,000 people show up to a Long Island mall for a signing this kid's having at an Abercrombie Kids. Madness breaks out, people have to go to the hospital, they've now pressed charges against a senior V.P. at Island-Def Jam for not Tweeting the cancellation of his appearence. Seriously.

Police arrested a senior vice president from Bieber's label, Island Def Jam Records, James A. Roppo, 44, of Hoboken, N.J., saying he hindered their crowd-control efforts by not cooperating. He was in custody Friday night, pending charges that could include criminal nuisance, endangering the welfare of a minor and obstructing government administration, Smith said. "We asked for his help in getting the crowd to go away by sending out a Twitter message," Smith said. "By not cooperating with us we feel he put lives in danger and the public at risk."

I wish cops would arrest me for not Twittering. Fantastic. Who's this kid again? He does this little song and dance:

Somehow, in this story, Usher is the Charlie to his, uh, "angelic teen dreaminess" or whatever, except why are teenage girls always crazy about teenage guys who look like girls? Maybe Zac Efron gets the exception card because he was in that Burr Steers movie with Matthew Perry, but still, like, the Carter Brothers? And they all act kinda hip hop-y [Except, again, for Efron: patterns!]. And early Justin Timberlake? And I mean, let's not even start on Hanson. The middle one? Are you kidding? Can someone please explain these things to me? Also, isn't the whole You + Me thing a bit tired? They should've really consulted MTV's in-house playbook before dropping that one.

Anyway, this kid, this 15 year-old Canadian kid, caused this scene:

Not exactly the reaction I had after the first time I saw the "You Oughta Know" video, but still, understandable on some level, right? WRONG. Because people were hurt. This is where G-12 Protests and Tiger Beat meet in the middle. I'm impressed, but also, kind of disappointed rubber bullets weren't at least threatened. Or even better: that they'd burn this entire Long Island mall's supply of Juicy Couture velour tracksuits. That would've stopped 'em dead in their tracks. Riot cops gotta pull out at least a few decent stops. Next time, call me. I know how to handle these things.

Anyway, a record exec is in jail—yay?—and a star is made, but whatever happened to the days when shit like this was all just A Hard Day's Night? He should learn, even though, apparently, the psychotic teen beasties of Long Island take a little more to be stopped than some clever hiding, in their great tradition of senseless consumer thuggery. Rage on, kids. Rage on.

Viva.

[Photo via HaveUHeard??]

Yes, that Joel Stein, Time columnist, blowjob expert, and sworn enemy of Doree Shafrirs near and far, has had a disagreement with his wife over how best to medicate their child. See, there are people out there that think vaccinations are bad. Like Joel's wife:

Unlike Cassandra, I feel it's important to overload our child with toxic levels of chemicals, risking permanent damage to his nervous system. At least that's how she saw it.

Note the past-tense saw. Because, of course, over the course of this after-school special, Joel convinced Cassandra otherwise. Before then, unfunny Jew joke regarding trayf:

And I know almost no one who is willing to get the swine-flu shot, and not because everyone here is Jewish.

Zing! And The New Yorker!

It's freaked people out for more than a century, often for religious reasons, causing riots in England in the 1850s, a huge uprising in Brazil in 1904 and a polio-vaccine boycott in Nigeria in 2001. Such rebellions against vaccination typically lead to disease outbreaks that put unimmunized kids at elevated risk, and, unless someone does something to stop it, endless New Yorker stories.

...and then, tossing all of Cassandra's new-age-y friends under the bus, too, when Joel, the pragmatic, straight-man in this story, goes to deal with this, uh, long-haired hippie bullshit face to face:

I went to a seminar about inoculation at Cassandra's yoga center. Along with about 50 other people, we paid $30 each to listen to Dr. Lauren Feder. I was doing a pretty good job of distracting myself until Feder told us that a good case of whooping cough can protect your child from asthma, that measles cure eczema and that only 1% of the mere 15% of prevaccine kids who got polio became paralyzed. Feder really sees the good side of life-threatening diseases. I bet she believes Ebola cures wrinkles.

But Joel does get to one wonderful thing:

I asked...whether putting off the vaccine for hepatitis B until puberty was completely safe, or if a child could get the disease from being bitten by another kid. "You go with what feels right," Feder told me.

Yes: there's a doctor in L.A. telling patients—or rather, customers—to go with "what feels right" when vaccinating their kids. Not being a medical expert, I'm not entirely sure how safe or unsafe vaccinations are. But I do know: I was born, and my parents had me needled until I was everything but sterile, and I'm pretty sure I turned out fine (and probably: sterile).

Stein managed to talk his wife out of not getting the kid his shots—as long as they're low on aluminum?—so I guess we can thank him for throwing his wife under the vaccination tank and helping the Public Cause one day further. But this mostly just reminds me of what all parents say when their kids take the car out: it's not you we're worried about, it's the other drivers. Now normal parents in L.A. have legitimate reasons to be scared of the parents of non-normal, bougie parents in L.A.: not only because their children are possibly disease-carrying/spreading germ vessels that are simply mechanisms of their parents' well-intentioned destructive impulses in the name of being progressive, but because the sequel to Outbreak's been waiting to be made forever, and if there's anything more frightening than a disease-carrying monkey that could destroy civilization, it's a brat sprung from the loins of West Hollywood.

15-year-old Alexa Longueira took her case to the people! She was walking on the sidewalk. She was texting. Then, out of nowhere, a GIANT FUCKING HOLE appeared in the ground below her - presumably, somewhere within the periphery of where she was holding her phone, incidentally - and she fell five feet into it. Via Gothamist:

Apparently DEP workers left the the open manhole to retrieve some orange cones-and it took a little too long for them to return. She told WCBS 2, "It was just really gross and it was shocking and scary. Because of their careless mistake I got hurt... Regardless of whether I'm texting or not if there was a cone there I'm gong to see a big orange cone. I walk that sidewalk every day, I don't expect a big hole there." So, if there was a big orange, she TOTALLY would have seen it while texting, instead of the manhole, right?

One can only hope! Because if orange cones won't save us from gigantic holes in the ground, what will? Funny you should ask. Alexa also expressed her fear of something pulling her under, into the sub-surface of the ground, into Staten Island's most inner-reaches!

"I thought it was something out of a movie, where something was gonna take me under."

Mind you, she was five feet underground. Anyway, it's pretty common knowledge that if you're pulled underground by something in New York, you might be in luck. Then again, it could be the mole people. Either way, if I were a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle or a moleperson, I probably would've thrown this one back out. The surface streets are dangerous enough; you don't need to be navigating the underground with a kid who can't see gigantic holes in the ground. Also, you can only talk about Twilight for so long. Seriously.

Video: S.I. Teen Discusses Fall Down Manhole While Texting [Gothamist]

One kid must do without 17,500 texts per month, another says newspapers are hard to read, with all the page-turning.

But the they're probably wise to the larger game here: Yet another media outlet using them to implicitly hammer home the banality that technology melts young brains and even corrupts schooling. And maybe it's wise to play along. It's a short hop from looking like an idiot to looking like an idiot savant.

Plus, who cares about analog clocks, anyway?

Law-enforcement officials say alcohol, loud noise, thick crowds and the high emotions of children's birthday parties make the restaurants more prone to disputes than other family entertainment venues.
The environment also brings out what security experts call the "mama-bear instinct." A Chuck E. Cheese's can take on some of the dynamics of the animal kingdom, where beasts rush to protect their young when they sense a threat.
Stepping in when a parent perceives that a child is being threatened "is part of protective parenting," says Frank Farley, a psychologist at Temple University and former president of the American Psychological Association. "It is part of the species — all species, in fact — in the animal kingdom," he says. "We do it all of the time."

That's fascinating in a Malcolm Gladwell kind of way. The Journal story admittedly doesn't have any statistics to "prove" with "evidence" that Chuck E. Cheese is actually particularly dangerous.

What it does have are

• some very choice anecodotes ("When the boy went to insert more tokens to continue playing, the woman grabbed the tokens out of his hand and told him to stop hogging the game"),
• a nifty six-item police blotter ("...during a verbal argument, an elderly female threw a shoe at him... He stated the fight started over someone calling his child 'ugly.' He stated he was not injured, his pride was just hurt."),
• and of course an infographic ("a man then pushed the mother by the throat into the video game").
• Also, some supportive quotes from police in various towns ("the [Susquehanna Township] police department gets called to respond to disputes at the restaurant as many as 15 times a year, Police Chief Robert Martin says").

Which isn't to say the story shouldn't have been written! It's great fun, and maybe it teaches us something about the power of paternal instincts, and how danger lurks in unexpected places or whatever, but seriously who cares it's just: Fun. Something to talk about with a stranger at a party! Or maybe not, because you'll seem like a perv obsessed with children's pizza parlors.

But, people, this is why you shouldn't hate so hard on Gladwell: Not every story has to be the final word. Sometimes it's enough to be an opening line.

(Image via) (Story via)

The captain of the under-21 team, Phil Boon, said he "didn't see what the problem was". He said Jewish girls had accepted invites to the party. "I can understand why it might have offended some people, but it would have been an awesome social." Boon refused to comment further.

[Guardian]

Roughly a year ago, Pollack started his "Playground" discussion forum. In the last couple of weeks, Griscom's Babble started a similar forum called "Babble Playground."

"We felt usurped, if not completely ripped of," Pollack wrote. Some of his commenters went and started a thread on the competing discussion forum about how their own Playground was totally better. Mature, right? Griscom deleted the thread, which he called "inaccurate and kinda tacky."

Then Griscom sent an email saying, basically, What, you exist? I'm sorry, I hadn't noticed your little chat board. ("We had no idea that you had social networking functionality on your site... I haven’t been there in some time.")

Then Pollack asked his legal counsel if Griscom could somehow be sued and made to starve in the street for daring to copy his brilliant "Playground" naming scheme, and they said Uh, definitely not.

So Pollack exercised the only attack vector left at his disposal, calling Griscom a yuppie and a square:

Babble is an expensive downtown urban loft rehab, where everything looks pretty, but it all feels so perfect, so smooth, so sterile, so target-marketed, so…fake. Offsprung, on the other hand, is like going over to the house of a good friend, a friend who has three kids and can’t afford to even dream about a nanny. The house is imperfect. It’s loud. There’s a weird yellow stain with hair clumps behind the toilet. But it’s home, and it’s comfortable, and it’s yours.

Then all the hipsters went back to ruining their children and the world forever, The End.

[Offsprung via NYM]

Gehry To Design Playground [AMNY]

Preschool Directors Balk at Toddler R sum s [NYS]